


Cream (ABORTED)

by SosearchingRomeo (Breakingthestandards)



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: I don't know why I ever started this, Implied Narcissism, M/M, Modern au times, RossTybalt and EyzenCutio, Rosstybalt and Zolicutio, Szil!Tybalt and Eyzen!Cutio, Szil!Tybalt and Zolicutio, Tycutio several times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breakingthestandards/pseuds/SosearchingRomeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b> *~*~* </b><br/>Tybalt and Mercutio.<br/>Why do they always end up dead?</p><p>The summary, basically, is that Tybalt convinces another Tybalt to swap their Mercutio’s. Because they always end up killing them despite being head over heels in love with them.</p><p>  <i>When Tybalt Capulet, still living at home with his aunt and uncle, encounters an odd man his life is turned upside down. Perhaps this time he won't kill the man he loves. Perhaps this time he can practice on an alternative Mercutio and perhaps, just perhaps, he can find happiness.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cream (ABORTED)

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. I promised long time ago to some of you that I would post the multiple Tybalt and Mercutio's fic. This is the first thing that came onto my screen - and wasn't actually the kind of story I had in mind. So while the Paris/Cutio tale is on a hold and the Tycutio slave fic is still going steady, it's time for something new, different and refreshing. Here it is! Hope you enjoy!

_About the_ _characters:_   To avoid confusion I renamed some of the characters to a variation of their name (inspired by the actor on which they were based). In this story Tybalt Capulet is based on Szabó p. Szilveszter, Mercutio is Bereczki Zoltán, Ross Tybalt is Tom Ross (2010), John Cutio is John Eyzen. John Cutio and Ross Tybalt are approximately the same size, just like Tybalt and Mercutio (who are both a lot taller). **Meaning that to Tybalt John is just a tiny Cutio, and to Mercutio Ross is just a tiny Tybalt.**

This story is not meant to ridicule the characters from Romeo and Juliet, and I will apologize to the wonderful actors who have been an inspiration to the characters as they are in this fic. You have inspired a whole fandom and people from all over the world. All I can say is thank you.

* * *

 

**Cream**

* * *

 

1.

The man was a clown- there was nothing more to say about it. A jester who thought his own jokes were witty and who laughed at his own cheeky replies. But Tybalt knew better than that.

The man sat in front of him and raised brow as if silently challenging him. But Tybalt wouldn’t take the bait. Instead he turned away from the man, took his cup of coffee with him and went to sit at the empty table next to them. He could ignore the man or at the very least he could try.

The redhead’s smile fell. “Well, nice knowing you. I’ve got to dash.” He ran a hand through his hair before gulping down the last of his hot cocoa – despite it still being too hot to drink.

Why had he bothered changing tables?

The other took his coat which had been hanging over the back of his chair, put it on hastily and with a slight bow of his head rushed out of the cafeteria.

Tybalt let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been keeping. Now that the other was gone he could relax again. He didn’t move back to the table he’d been at originally but instead started to play with the spoon that was glowing hot in his cup.

The insufferable fool had joined him, unasked and unwanted, the moment he’d sat down at his table. They knew each other since their childhood and were now only acquainted because the redhead had been his cousin’s husband’s best man. You read that right. His cousin, lovely Juliet, had married Romeo despite just having reached her eighteenth birthday. It wasn’t how it should be.

He sighed and stared out of the window. Water was sliding down the glass and outside it looked cold, as if it was going to snow, but it hadn’t done much else but rain all week. This table’s view was less fancy than the one he'd been at before, but he was seated now and he wasn’t going to change spots – too late, some girl had sat down at the table next to him. Well, this table was okay too.

Perhaps he should have been kinder to the boy but it was no secret that Mercutio had the hots for him. Heck, they’d even dated while in high-school – a memory Tybalt still wished to forget. And to make things worse, he still had the hots for the boy too. But no one was ever going to find out. Ever since Mercutio dumped him for Rosa he had hated him. Wasn’t Mercutio supposed to fancy only men? Why did he have to be dumped for a girl and one of his cousins on top of that!

Then after Rosa Mercutio had dated Peter, Tybalt’s best friend. It only got worse after that. It was no secret Mercutio dated half their class, and had ended up with the Montagues, dating Benvolio for over a year after Romeo turned him down – and wasn’t that a surprise to find out when Juliet was just married for a day that Romeo had indeed dated Mercutio for a short while. The thought made him want to vomit.

Was Mercutio with Benvolio still? He thought so but he didn’t know for sure. Every time they’d meet Mercutio would try to start a light conversation, tried to add in some jokes; Tybalt would ignore him or tell him to sod off and then turn his back on him.

They were out of school now, Tybalt already out of university, but it seemed like that didn’t change things between them. Tybalt wanted nothing more than to deny he still had feelings for the other man; that seeing Mercutio turned him on and that fighting him made him want them to end up in bed. But he was stronger than that and he was loathe to admit his feelings.

He was doing fine, really. He had a nice desk job. His new medicine kept his epilepsy at bay much better than the previous ones he’d tried. He still lived with his aunt and uncle – that posed no problems. He missed Juliet there but he was too angry with Romeo for stealing her from him to care to pay her a visit in her new fancy little apartment his aunt and uncle had bought for her and Romeo. No, life was _fucking perfect._ He needed nothing and no one.

There was a sound, a shift, someone sat opposite of him and the leather of the chair creaked. For a moment he thought it was the redhead, that he had returned to taunt him some more. _Please do._ But it wasn’t.

Opposite of him sat a stranger. A man who was smaller than himself but who carried a wicked grin. He was older, Tybalt thought, by a few years or so if the wrinkles round his eyes and lips could tell. And he had a peculiar sense of style. He was dressed in red from top to toe, with only black leather gloves to make a change. And then there was his dark curly hair and the bleached strand in it that caught his eye. This man was something different.

He instantly felt a pull towards him strengthened only when he locked eyes with the bloke and the man leaned forward to him, grinning wickedly as his eyes gleamed.

“I’ll tell you something,” the stranger said, and Tybalt felt his mouth run dry, “your ideas about pretty boy are in my head as well. I know how you suffer. Let us do something about that.”

 _Halt_. Tybalt took a moment to recollect his thoughts and to calm down. The man had stirred something inside of him, some twisted form of desire only Mercutio had managed to stir in him before and it unnerved him. Then there was the accent of the man, it sounded like he wasn’t from here, might be from somewhere else in Europe. Then there was the nagging feeling biting down his neck that this stranger was talking hocus pocus gibberish. Did he know anything about what was going on in his mind?

He sat back, his hand outstretched in front of him, palm against the edge of the table, and looked as if he was about to bolt when the other man suddenly chuckled and shook his head. He got the eerie impression that he was dealing with a madman. _A hot madman._

No.

He didn’t just have that thought.

“I can see the radars churn inside your head and it is funny to watch.” The other man drawled. His voice was hoarse, Tybalt noted, a bit like his own. “You think I am mad and you’re going to bolt.” He laughed and threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bopping pleasantly. “Good god, you think I’m mad. What he wouldn’t do to hear this.” He shook his head and as far as Tybalt was concerned had finally stopped spewing his nonsense.

“All right,” he caught himself at sounding hoarse indeed and forced his own limbs to relax, “I’ll stay and listen to what you have to say. But only,” he now raised a long digit to the other, “if what you say will actually start to make sense.”

“Okay.” The other didn’t sound impressed and rubbed his chin – Tybalt noted he had a little beard, a ring of hair around his lips and adorning his chin- before he continued. “I am you.”

Tybalt blinked. Then turned to grab his coat and stand up from his chair.

Behind him the other man let out a sigh. “I am you, okay? Now listen, I know you’re in love with some kind of silly boy and think it isn’t fine but it is, all right? And I have come here to corner you and make sure that you don’t go off and kill that boy.”

Tybalt sat down again and stared at him bluntly. “You’re mad.” It was just a confirmation.

The other grinned. “Usually we would blame _him_ of being the mad one. But here's the deal. There’s this boy I know. He irritates me. We knew each other ever since we were boys. I threatened to kill him and believe me I would.”

Tybalt said nothing, just stared and waited for the other to continue. The other man needed no reply and did as was expected. He seemed way too pleased in what he was telling.

“So I accidentally stumbled upon this old lady the other day. Called Angela, really nice. She grabbed my arm at the fancy fair where I was visiting with my cousin Jules. She insisted to speak to me, appeared to be some kind of clairvoyant. I didn’t believe in her skills at first, not until she had me sat down and stirred up old memories of a previous life. Seems I already knew the annoying brat even then, wanted him like mad, fucked him even before he got the chance to die. I killed him with my own hands, my blade, enjoyed watching him die, laughed even.”

Tybalt started to feel slightly awkward, a little bit unsafe, but that familiar feeling was back inside his stomach, twisting and twirling. This sounded almost familiar?

“Then I regretted his death and had myself killed.” The other man reached for Tybalt’s coffee but Tybalt did nothing to stop his movement. The man drank from it and emptied it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I swore with my dying breath to meet again, to do things differently, to be with the boy I claimed I hated the most.”

When the other remained silent Tybalt finally cleared his throat and cocked his head. “And?”

The other grinned and moved his eyes to the table, almost as if shy. “I lived again, met him, had a fight, killed him, died, lived again, had a fight, killed him, tried to resurrect him, died. It goes on and on. Angela said she knew me in all my previous lives and when she had a vision about me she decided to help me out. So that’s why I am here.”

“That is your life.” Tybalt said, unaffected. “Why should it prove that you are me?”

The other chuckled softly. “Because I know I will kill the boy I crave again unless someone will come and stop me.” His eyes flitted up to meet Tybalt’s. “Also, Angela told me that I was in luck. Fate has it that I live many different lives. It is the way we have many possible futures and many possible lives to lead. Ever heard of the theory of alternative dimensions?”

“Is that a theory?”

The other sighed. “Suppose I lived, I secretly loved, I killed him again and then had myself killed on purpose.” He eyed Tybalt. “On bloody purpose. What was I thinking? How come this version of me was so darn weak? ”

Tybalt now leant forth on his elbows and pulled his lips into a snarl. “You talk as if you’re the first, the original, what makes you so special?”

The other leant back. “Because two of me have been reincarnated at the same time with two of him as well. Can we be any more lucky?” The man’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve got a proposition to make.”

“Propose it.” Tybalt neutrally replied.

“I’ll take your Mercutio. You’ll take mine. And we see how it goes.”

Tybalt sat up straight within an instant, his hand slammed on the table. “How did you know his name?”

The other shrugged. “I assume his name is the original because so is yours.” He pointed at the name sign that Tybalt was wearing on his suit. Shit. He should have taken it off. Stupid courses they had to follow for their job every now and then. He ripped it off with a grunt.

“Tybalt.” The other man flinched. “You’re also called Tybalt?”

The other man shook his head. “Tybalt is my surname in this version of me. My name is Ross.”

Tybalt nodded and folded his arms in front of his chest. “And your Mercutio?”

Ross smirked. “His name is John Cutio.”

“Fancy.” Tybalt muttered under his breath.

“He is.” Ross hummed. For a moment the two men studied each other in silence. They took in the other's features – so very different from their own. Finally, Ross revealed a photo and placed it on the table, then slowly slid it towards the man opposite of him. Tybalt took the photo in his hands and stared at the boy depicted.

“John Cutio. Currently studying English at your local university. In his free time he likes to play games and go to events where people dress up silly. He's about an inch taller than me but still smaller than you. I suppose you could easily wrap your arm around him and carry him wherever you wish to go. He isn't that heavy.” At Tybalt's inquisitive stare Ross felt the need to add an explanation. “Trust me, I know. Even I can lift him up.”

He chuckled and Tybalt sat back in his chair, studying the picture. “So he is about my age?” He mused.

“And what age would that be?” Ross asked with a wicked grin, but before Tybalt could reply he was already waving his hands through the air. “No need to tell me. This reincarnation is much younger than me, like your Mercutio will be younger than me too. Ah well, let's just hope he likes older gents. You see, last time I looked like this _and_ killed him he was the older one.” Ross laughed.

Tybalt wasn't as amused as his other self but decided to keep at glaring rather than voice his concern. This situation was all too odd. Then again, the boy on the picture had an appealing face.

“I thought so.” Ross breathed in front of him, his words sounding as if he was out of breath by excitement. “There's another thing I need to add. Apparently, according to Angela, who used to be our cousin's nurse-”

“You said your cousin was named Jules.” Tybalt interrupted him and Ross bit his cheek. Their eyes met.

“You remember that little detail.” Said Ross, sounding impressed. He clicked his tongue and moved back in his chair. “Jules she's called. Short for Juliette.”

“Like mine.” Tybalt slowly started to realize that the coincidences were just too much.

“Anyway,” Ross continued, not bothered by the confused man in front of him. “She gave away another little fun fact. According to her there are these rules when people are put together. They feel a certain pull to the ones they need to be with. I suppose you could call it soul-mates. Then again, there's also this pull with yourself. Because you are always tempted to love yourself.”

Tybalt felt awkward at these last words by his other self. He had never felt as if he loved himself. His limbs were too long, too slender, his gait too awkward. He felt like he lacked a proper chin and the amount of hair on his arms was just too much compared to what would grow on his chin or under his arms. He hated that he had this illness and that spinning images and bright lights would give him a headache. He hated that he couldn't go and see a 3D movie without getting a heavy migraine. He disliked the fact that he felt much more at ease on his own than among others because he did crave interaction – just not that much. And he didn't like how awkward he felt when he finally was among people.

“What if you hate yourself?” He growled.

“Ah,” Ross said with a half-hearted smile. “If you hate yourself it's only because you haven't learned how to love yourself yet. And if you need to be taught in that....”

“No.” Tybalt firmly said, gesturing with his hand for the other to shut up. “I'll do it. I'll try and seduce this John Cutio. And I will try not to kill him.” His eyes met those of Ross. “But in turn you shall have to promise to do the same. Be careful with Mercutio. I-” There was no need to finish that sentence or to say what he wanted to say. Ross already nodded and got up from his chair.

“Here's a note with his number. Call him. Say you accidentally called the wrong number and were looking for Ben Montague.”

Tybalt couldn't force back the small smile that came to his lips when he heard the name. The irony of having to ask for a man whose name, and possibly also identity and soul, was similar to that of the boy who had snatched his Mercutio away from him. What a blatant lie that he would be looking for him – he would only do so to kill him. He was certain of this.

“If you mention his name he's bound to react to it. Ben is his childhood friend. Annoying brat.” Ross whispered.

There needn't be a reply. Tybalt emptied his now cold coffee and gave the paper with the telephone number one last glance before crumpling it and putting it into his pocket. Without saying another word he rose and left, figuring that Ross would know a way to get to Mercutio. It hadn't been hard for Ross to find himself after all. It seemed the man knew a lot of things Tybalt wasn't aware of and wasn't certain he even wished to know.

Once outside of the cafeteria he paused to take a final look at the photo Ross had given him. The image of a young boy smiling invitingly at him was slowly burned onto his mind.

Then he pocketed it and went home.


End file.
